


Of Melon Gingham and Reading Between the Lines

by orphan_account



Category: B1A4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M, Porn With Plot, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junghwan moves in with Chansik after graduating from college and navigates the maze of a new house and newly unresolved sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Melon Gingham and Reading Between the Lines

The house was a suburban two-bedroom ranch on a grassy lot that stretched the width of about a tube of toothpaste, give or take. Apparently, building deep was the new hit in eco-friendly design options, so staring at the front of their home ( _their_ home— Junghwan was going to have to get used to that) was akin to looking lengthwise down a ruler. Junghwan reminded himself that he was only doing this because Chansik's parents bought a place to give to (or loan without interest, depending on how you looked at it) Chansik as a graduation gift and in exchange for him finally getting his license, and that living with Chansik would from every angle have the biggest impact on Junghwan finally being able to save a bit of money and work toward paying off his student loans.

That, and the fact that he'd been Chansik's roommate for three years leading up to that day, all throughout Chansik's shortened university experience and the multiple blueprints a very drunk Chansik had mapped out of their "dream home together".

"Together" was the word that stuck with Junghwan.

Dorming with Chansik and living with Chansik would turn out to detail two very different experiences. Their dorm, though messy, was a sparsely decorated pile of laundry and unfinished assignments, but as Junghwan watched Chansik haul box after box of trinkets and tacky souvenirs and vintage picture frames from the back of the moving truck, he realized that sparse would not be part of their vocabulary in this new era in their lives. 

Chansik nudged Junghwan with his elbow. "You surprised?" he said with a huff and a small smile.

Junghwan shrugged. "I never pegged you as the nostalgic type."

Chansik laughed. "There are a lot of things you don’t know about me."

"Really," Junghwan mused. "Funny, because I would've assumed three years of being stuck with you and your tucked sheets and matching toothbrush holders might have cued me in on most of it."

"Hey, my feet get cold at night, okay?"

Junghwan grinned and punched Chansik lightly on his bare forearm. "I know, I've felt them."

Chansik wagged his eyebrows at Junghwan.

Two years ago, this would've ended differently. Two years ago, Junghwan wouldn't have thought twice about asking if Chansik's rolled up sleeves and conveniently sweat-drenched shirt and pushed back hair were part of a planned scheme to impress the ladies. Two years ago, life was natural and the world still turned right on its axis and Junghwan went to class at 9:30am and Chansik rolled out of bed and into their bathroom without a single article of clothing while Junghwan was brushing his teeth. But it seemed that whenever feelings got involved, nothing stayed consistent for longer than a week. 

"The world doesn't work that way, Junghwan,” Jinyoung, the TA in Junghwan’s synth-keyboard class said without looking up from his laptop when Junghwan asked him about it while receiving the grade for his final project. “The world hasn’t worked that way since you met him,” Jinyoung continued, but Junghwan selectively chose not to listen to half of what Jinyoung said, because he was never sure if Jinyoung was actually listening or mumbling song lyrics from his failed stint as a rock star. Jinyoung was the only person from college that Junghwan had made an effort at keeping in touch with over the summer, but Jinyoung was sporadic about checking his emails, sometimes sending Junghwan four emails in the span of 30 seconds, and sometimes leaving his inbox unread for three weeks. 

They’d left the couch on the lawn after all the boxes had been unloaded and the moving truck was long gone, and Chansik sprawled on it, arms draped across the back cushions like a scene from an early 2000s chick-flick. He patted the spot beside him.

“So, I guess it’s official now,” Junghwan said, sitting down next to Chansik and absentmindedly guestimating the distance between their knees. He was keenly aware of Chansik’s arm curled behind his head and the warmth radiating off of Chansik’s body.

Chansik laughed and had no other reply. Many of their interactions played out that way, Junghwan spouting nonsense and Chansik replying with monosyllabic answers or grunts of acknowledgement, yet Junghwan always seemed to know Chansik was listening. That made Junghwan feel simultaneously important and vulnerable. And Junghwan never used to mind it before, when school and friends and parties and job applications kept his mind busy and distracted from the way Chansik’s hand would linger on his shoulder, or when Chansik would approach Junghwan from behind and reach over him to get something from a higher cabinet, and Chansik’s breath would tickle the back of Junghwan’s neck. Junghwan didn’t know when external sensations all began to link themselves to internal sensations, and the shiver that ran down Junghwan’s spine would become both a display of embarrassment and an involuntary motion of unresolved lust.

“Are you cold?” Chansik said, and Junghwan nodded, lying.

“I’ll help you get this inside,” Junghwan said, taking the opportunity to jump up and dart behind the couch all in one swift motion.

—

All of the pictures in the photo frames were of Chansik and Junghwan together.

“That’s, uh, embarrassing,” Chansik said, standing back and watching Junghwan tuck the frames behind one another to make room for more. 

“Wait, you’re not the one who put these in here?” Junghwan said.

Chansik laughed. “This was either my mom’s fault, or Sunwoo’s idea of a cruel practical joke. I can never tell.” At the bottom of the box was a Post-it note that read, _I’ve already decided that your housewarming party will be on the 6th. I’ll bring wine._ Junghwan handed this to Chansik, and Chansik told him he still couldn’t tell. 

“Where did you get all of these pictures? I don’t even remember taking these."

“Ah, must be Sunwoo, then,” Chansik replied. “Friends, Facebook. Club photographers. Possibly your camera.” 

Styrofoam peanuts were scattered all over the hardwood floor, and the refrigerator was empty, two pieces of news that Junghwan woke up to that put him in a rather sour mood. Chansik had driven them to the nearest diner for breakfast, and Chansik, in his chic slate-colored raincoat, looked like he’d been frequenting this suburban hole in the wall for the past ten years, and Junghwan was the city boy flailing through unfamiliarly calm waters, making a big deal out of a dent in a cereal box.

40 minutes later, Junghwan was full of blueberry pancakes and Chansik was drying his shoes on the metal shoe rack. “I told you this would be a good idea,” Chansik said, pushing the shoe rack with his toe toward the heater. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell that to the cheap-ass coffeemaker that only brews, like, three cups at a time,” Junghwan replied. 

And then Chansik was right in front of him, upturned eyes and quirked mouth and the whole package, his tousled hair exuding the scent of a new shampoo that suddenly smelled extremely alluring to Junghwan as of that morning. “Relationships are full of compromises."

Junghwan felt the heat rise to his face. The feeling was familiar around Chansik, and Junghwan didn’t remember when he began experiencing it, and he couldn’t place his finger on whether he liked it or not. He was never really sure of anything when it came to Chansik. “Yeah, and both our internships begin tomorrow, so we’re going to have to start compromising on who gets the last cup of coffee,” Junghwan said, sidestepping out of Chansik’s force field, the small circle that Junghwan discovered which surrounded Chansik, following him like a cape, and anyone in that field could be convinced to concede to Chansik’s lead. Somewhere in the back of Junghwan’s conscience, a weak but persistent train of thought prodded at him: no one but Junghwan had ever gotten physically close enough to Chansik to feel that force.

“We need to get a vacuum cleaner stat,” Junghwan said, kicking the new, abstract patterned rug that Junghwan’s sister had sent to their house that morning so that it rolled out into a crooked, half-curled sheet. 

“We also don’t have a shower curtain,” Chansik called from the bathroom, and Junghwan sighed.

“How are we going to survive this, Chansik,” Junghwan said. They’d slept on a bare mattress the previous night because neither of them had remembered which box they’d packed the sheets in. Junghwan made it a point to sleep as close to the wall (and therefore as far away from Chansik) as possible. In the commotion of finalizing the down payment for the house and mapping out the commute to work every morning and shopping with his older sister for his first pair of dress shoes ever, Junghwan had forgotten that he and Chansik had agreed to convert the second bedroom into an office-slash-recording studio; thus, they would be sleeping in the same room. He’d also forgotten that Chansik’s parents had a new queen-sized mattress and bed frame they’d been saving since Chansik entered his third year of university that they’d conveniently insisted upon Chansik keeping even when he told them he wouldn’t be moving in with a girlfriend but rather Junghwan. 

Junghwan managed to fall asleep after what seemed like hours of curling up into different configurations of a knot of limbs. He ended up waking up in the middle of the night anyway to an armful of Chansik and long arms wrapped around his waist and Chansik’s bare legs tangled with his own.

Chansik walked out of the bathroom with two empty boxes and a notepad. “We just need to go shopping,” Chansik said. Junghwan lied down and rolled onto his stomach, the smell of the new rug flooding his senses. “No, but seriously, we just need to deal with this for, like, a year or two, and once we—you’ve saved up enough money, you can move out. Or I’ll move out."

“No,” Junghwan said quickly. He wondered how, even though he was lying perfectly parallel to the ground, his heart felt like it had dropped about ten meters unannounced. “I—I meant, the rain.”

“The rain?"

Junghwan glanced out the window and closed his eyes as soon as he spotted Chansik’s stiff frame in the reflection. “I meant, how are we going to survive the rain? It never rained this much in the city."

Junghwan heard some shuffling, and when he opened his eyes again, Chansik was crouched down next to him, his broad shoulders fallen into a relaxed slope again. Junghwan breathed out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Chansik smiled down at Junghwan as Junghwan rolled onto his back. “Shoe rack."

— 

The natural beat into which Junghwan and Chansik fell as soon as Chansik pulled a shopping cart out partly amused Junghwan and partly disturbed him. 

“Green or yellow?” Chansik said, holding a melon-colored gingham curtain beside a white curtain decorated with lemon slices.

“Ew,” Junghwan said, “Yeah, let me just bring those back to the farm in my wagon and we’ll churn up some butter for dinner."

Chansik laughed. “Brights happen to be in this season, you know."

“And so are bales of hay and baskets of decorative fruits, I’m guessing?” Junghwan said, grabbing a blue, yellow, and orange color-blocked curtain from the stack and tossing it into the cart. 

“Ooh, contemporary,” Chansik commented. “I like it."

“Who died and said your opinion mattered?” Junghwan replied, sticking his tongue out at Chansik, and Chansik laughed again. When Junghwan opened his eyes again, Chansik was looking at him and biting his lower lip. Despite this, Chansik managed to appear neither demure nor uncertain, just…intent. “My eyes are up here,” Junghwan said.

“I know,” Chansik replied, his gaze flicking from Junghwan’s eyes to somewhere around Junghwan’s mouth, chin, or neck area. Junghwan turned away, shoving the shopping cart forward a few aisles, but he could still feel Chansik looking at the back of his neck. Junghwan jumped visibly when he felt Chansik’s hands on his shoulders. “You seem tense."

“I _am_ tense, thanks for noticing,” Junghwan said through gritted teeth. He was smiling, though, and he saw Chansik grinning back at him reflected in the store’s selection of standing mirrors. The sight of the two of them together—Chansik half behind him though slightly taller, close enough so that his lips were almost pressed into Junghwan’s hair, his hand curled loosely around Junghwan’s arm— looked simultaneously quaint and vivid, as if daring Junghwan to break it. Chansik made no signs of moving, as if he could stand there staring at them for the rest of the day and be perfectly content with it. “Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” Junghwan quipped, but his voice came out soft and rounded around the edges, almost inviting. 

Chansik’s hand drifted to Junghwan’s waist, and for a moment, time stopped.

Junghwan ripped his gaze from the mirror and gripped the handles of the shopping cart. “Kitchen towels,” he said loudly to no one in particular. “And a drying rack for the dishes.” 

“Bronze or iron?” Chansik said immediately, drifting over to the shelves of kitchen organizers, and like this, they danced along a tense line between the familiar and the extraordinary.

— 

“Come to bed,” Chansik called from their bedroom as Junghwan towel-dried his hair in front of the fogged-up mirror. Junghwan sent him a deadpan, and Chansik wagged his eyebrows again. 

“How can you do that so casually?” 

“What, the eyebrows?” Chansik said, scrunching his eyebrows then raising them. 

Junghwan had meant the offhanded sexual remarks, but he decided to just let it go. “Wear more clothes when you sleep,” Junghwan said when his hand snaked under the comforter and immediately came in contact with Chansik’s bare leg. “It’s, like, October. 

Chansik shrugged. “I like the feel of the sheets. And—"

Junghwan crawled over Chansik, purposely kicking his shin. “And what?” he said, pulling the comforter to his chin, and Chansik responded by flicking off the lamp on their nightstand and saying nothing. 

That night wasn’t nearly as cold as the previous one had been, but the sheets tucked against Junghwan’s arms and legs felt like the inside of a car in the dead of winter. Junghwan, facing the wall, pushed himself back toward Chansik and tensed all his muscles in an effort to warm up. When his back met Chansik’s chest, Chansik shifted slowly so that their bodies slotted perfectly together, Chansik’s arm naturally falling around Junghwan’s waist again. Junghwan tucked his hands under his pillow to repress his sudden urge to lace his fingers with Chansik’s, and he desperately wanted to turn around, wanted to see if Chansik’s eyes were open, wanted to see where those eyes were looking.

Junghwan’s breath came out shuddering but slow, and Chansik _snuggled_ into Junghwan’s back, his grip on Junghwan’s waist tightening just slightly.

Junghwan was very much awake when he heard a sighed, “And you."

— 

In college, Junghwan’s studio classes had started early and ended late, but Chansik often preferred to work on his group projects in his classmates’ rooms, so Junghwan wasn’t unfamiliar with coming home to an empty room, dark and tidied, as if its owner had been gone for weeks. Chansik had a nervous habit of picking up stray pencils and sheets of paper and superficially organizing things to the point that he allocated fifteen extra minutes each morning before he left for class to put things in piles and make the place appear relatively neat. He’d close the door to the bathroom if it was messy, stack the dirty dishes into a neat pile in the sink, and stuff papers into folders; to whom the papers belonged was completely arbitrary to him.

So when Junghwan opened the door to the lights switched on and the dishes still on the table, spoon left in a bowl of cereal milk with the odd marshmallow still floating around, Junghwan’s first thought was to pull out his phone and text Chansik.

_are u okay_

Chansik responded half an hour later, during which Junghwan passed the time by ripping their growing pile of junk mail into small pieces and arranging them into famous architectural structures. He was adding detailed terraces to the ancient Mayan temples when his phone buzzed.

_i overslept omg lmao just got off work_

About three seconds later, another text.

_i hope you didnt drink the cereal milk_

Junghwan responded with a reflexive _shut up_ and tapped in _i was worried about you god_ before staring at it for a moment, scrunching up his nose, and deleting _god_ and replacing it with _you idiot_. Bantering with Chansik used to be second nature to him, and they'd made a habit of texting each other from across the room in the middle of the night, the cool glow of a screen dimly illuminating the walls and their snickers the only noise either of them could hear. Sometimes Chansik would be up late working on a report, and Junghwan would wake up in the middle of the night to the glow of a desk lamp and faint typing noises, and that would initiate another bout of texts and Junghwan rolling around in his bed, Chansik sitting at the desk behind him and both of them trying not to make a sound. Junghwan didn't know when he'd begun proofreading his texts before he sent them, or when Chansik's impression of him began mattering to him, or if those two changes were related at all.

Junghwan added _it’s cold enough in this cave i bet the milk is still good_. He then started typing _ㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗ_ , then went back to the beginning of the message and promptly deleted the whole thing, imagining Chansik typing _let me come warm you up_ with one hand while starting up his car, quirking the corner of his lips up and pushing back his hair in that deliberately ostentatious way he did, fingers carding black, wavy strands. That was the beginning of college, about three or four months after they met and a couple blurry, drunk encounters had brought them unsurprisingly closer together. Recently, he’d begun looking at Junghwan after doing the hair-thing while his bangs fell around his face and his gaze marked Junghwan’s eyes like crosshairs. Junghwan in reaction had begun having fleeting thoughts of wanting to climb into Chansik’s lap and kiss the smirk off his face, or of wanting Chansik to make a goddamn _move_ already, of needing Chansik to back Junghwan into the window and trap him there, lips ghosting over Junghwan’s, and oh _god_ , Junghwan was thoroughly fucked.

Leaving only the ㅗs, Junghwan added _fuck you_ , but then decided that was too harsh (and too vulnerable to suggestive remarks) and thus deleted that as well. 

It was then that Junghwan realized he’d just spent twenty minutes deciding what derisive remark to send to Chansik, and he immediately groaned and buried his head in his hands. 

After three missed calls and eleven messages of _answer the phone i know youre there_ , Jinyoung finally picked up.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung said, sounding groggy. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you yet. Figured I’d stop by your housewarming party and we could catch up then, you know? I’ve had it in my calendar for weeks."

“How come everyone knew about this party but us?” Junghwan said, exasperated. 

Jinyoung paused for a moment, then barked out a sudden laugh. “Pretty sure you two are just too lost in your own little world."

Junghwan made it a point to sigh straight into the receiver, earning a muttered, “Jesus,” from Jinyoung.

“And why does everyone think we’re dating?"

Jinyoung paused again, this time for longer. “Wait, you’re not? Yet?"

“Pretty sure if we were, I’d know."

“Doubtful,” Jinyoung replied. “Let me guess. He’s probably taken you out to a meal."

“If makeshift breakfast at a soggy diner counts."

“But he paid, right?"

“I don’t know, I was barely awake."

“You guys went grocery shopping—together."

Junghwan slumped over onto the table, pushing the cereal bowl aside. “Isn’t that, like, a normal thing? I used to go grocery shopping with my mom all the time when I was a kid—"

Jinyoung laughed again, leaving Junghwan with a miffed frown. “Oh god, I can’t believe you just mom-zoned Gong Chansik."

Junghwan sputtered, which provoked more laughing from Jinyoung, and on top of that, Jinyoung was in one of those woozy 3:30am states where everything was abso-fucking-lutely hilarious even though it was actually six in the evening. It took about a minute and a half for Jinyoung to calm down. “Wait, I’m pretty sure I haven’t talked to you for, like, a month,” Junghwan mused out loud through Jinyoung’s pathetic wheezes.

“Dude, I already apologized, what more do you—"

“And I’m pretty sure I’ve only been actively thirsting after Chansik’s dick for the past two weeks or so."

“Wow,” Jinyoung said flatly. “You held out for _three years_ on that magnificent piece of human being? I’m impressed."

“So how did you know that—“ Junghwan started, but cut himself off because he honestly didn’t know how to finish his sentence. It definitely wasn’t the first time that conversation revolving around the nebulous topic of Chansik had left him at a loss for words. 

“What, you want him to want you? You found love right where you are? You’re talking bodies, and he’s got a perfect one, so put it on you? I could go on all day,” Jinyoung said. 

“Please don’t start with the shitty Billboard Top 40 lyrics diatribe,” Junghwan said.

“Junghwan,” Jinyoung said, and all hints of grogginess had left his voice by then. “Everyone knows but you. And him. You guys are literally dancing around this big, gaping fucking _elephant_ in the room, and he’s probably too afraid to ‘ruin the friendship’ or whatever, and you— well, I don’t know what’s wrong with you—"

“Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a single person confess to me in my life before?” Junghwan retorted.

Jinyoung sighed. “Sorry I hit a sore spot. But you’ve got to get over that, man. If you’re too focused on this… this sad— and it’s sad, it really is. I mean this in the most respectful way possible. This sad lack of love you have for yourself, you’re going to keep missing the fact that Chansik fucking _adores_ you."

Chansik’s headlights blinded Junghwan for a moment as he pulled into the driveway with impeccable timing. “I have to go,” Junghwan said, and Jinyoung just laughed. 

— 

A simple meal of rice and haphazardly thrown-together sides filled what seemed like miles and miles of no man’s land between Junghwan and Chansik. Chansik’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and he’d unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, a style that Junghwan for the first time consciously noted looked incredibly enticing on Chansik. Chansik’s chopsticks darted from dish to dish as Junghwan picked at his rice, free hand balled stiffly into a fist in his lap.

“Uh, how was work?” Junghwan said, and Chansik looked up at him, chopsticks poking out from his mouth. What did people talk about around the dinner table? Junghwan was at least 80% sure that not every conversation started out with _I think I’m in love with you and I want to unbutton your shirt right now because I know you’re not wearing anything under it because we’ve been for all intents and purposes living together for three years and I know how many undershirts you own_.

Chansik hummed. “It was okay. Started training with the other new recruits, and they made us take this personality test. The ‘Big Five’, or something like that."

Junghwan snorted. He had trouble with putting words to intense emotions, but witty responses to superficial pieces of information he could do. He spoke in banter to just about everyone he knew, and Chansik was only different in that Chansik had the ability to effortlessly disarm Junghwan whenever he wanted, while others actually had to work for their verbal victories. “Oh? Learn anything new about yourself? Did your boss fire you on the spot, and you’re just stalling to deliver the news?"

Chansik laughed. “I learned that I am… well, apparently, curious, a little organized, neither shy nor outgoing, decently friendly, and somewhat confident. In other words, completely average.” 

Junghwan huffed. “I could’ve told you that without having you answer any stupid questions. Though you’re a little iffy on the curious part."

Chansik looked up from his food again. “How so?"

Junghwan had to look up at the ceiling; Chansik’s biggest weapon was his face—not its beauty, but something beneath that, something that the beauty actually functioned to hide from most people. Chansik’s arsenal of expressions and the way he subtly mixed and matched them was what pulled Junghwan in—what dragged the words out of Junghwan’s mouth and into the air between them, what made Junghwan feel both defenseless and protected at the same time whenever he was around Chansik. Because Junghwan wasn’t used to letting the words out—he wasn’t used to having words in the first place—he felt altogether the extreme vulnerability of a child when Chansik eased those words out of him like luring a stray cat out from under a dumpster. But talking to Chansik was a one-way street, and one thing Junghwan was sure of was that Chansik held on to his words and protected them with unmatched intensity.

“Mmm, well, you don’t seem very, uh, proactive to me. Sometimes,” Junghwan said.

Chansik set his chopsticks across his empty bowl.

“You know, like when. Like. I just get this sense that you sometimes ease forward a little, and then retreat. Not curious, more like— cautious. Then you do it again. Like sticking your toes in the water but never really jumping in.” Junghwan tilted his chair back on its hind two legs, and Chansik stood up from the table, picking up his bowl and pushing Junghwan’s chair back down reflexively. 

“Would you like me to jump in?” Chansik said, setting his hand on the back of Junghwan’s chair and standing over Junghwan.

“I think I’d like that. A lot."

And in one smooth motion, Chansik’s lips were on Junghwan’s.

Junghwan felt the charged air between them compress exponentially, and when Chansik kissed him, it culminated in a moment so intense that Junghwan let out an involuntary whimper as a full-body shudder ran through him. Chansik responded by bracing his hands on the wall behind Junghwan and leaning him up against it, Chansik's lips drifting from Junghwan’s lips to his jawline to his neck. Junghwan instinctively tilted his head back to give Chansik access, and whimpered quietly again when Chansik sucked on the junction above Junghwan’s collarbone.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” Chansik murmured against Junghwan’s skin, and Junghwan half hummed half moaned as his arms came up to hook around Chansik’s neck and pull him closer. Junghwan had never quite experienced the feeling of being denied something for so long that the pent up frustration left him whining and completely unhinged when he finally got it. He’d never felt himself lose control of his own body’s motions until he half stood up and felt Chansik’s hips come down to meet his. 

Every point of contact between Chansik’s fingers and Junghwan’s clothed body pulled another desperate noise out of Junghwan, and after a particularly breathy moan, Chansik groaned and rested his forehead on Junghwan’s shoulder, breathing heavily. 

It was then that Junghwan realized it wasn’t two weeks of pent-up tension—it was three years of it, starting from the moment Junghwan moved into the new dorm on campus and spotted a naked, wet Chansik with just a towel around his waist carrying a shower caddy back to the room that had _718_ over it, and the drop in Junghwan’s throat when he realized that _718_ was _his_ room. It had continued through Junghwan burying himself in schoolwork and shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, thoroughly distracting himself with music and Jinyoung and terrible song lyrics and avoiding Chansik as often as possible. And when they did spend extended time together, what came out wasn’t the sexual feelings, but the _feelings_ feelings, the confessions that made Junghwan mistake their relationship for a strong and static friendship that came out of nowhere instead of what it was, which was _romance_ , the whole package deal, the shit that Jinyoung tried to sing about but never achieved that balance between cheesy and relatable. It was emotional and sexual frustrations that ebbed and flowed and filled in the gaps between the walls that Junghwan tried to build around himself to protect himself from what would inevitably drown him in—well, _this_.

And Junghwan finally pulled the thumb out of the hole in the dike and let the water flow in, and the way it came, in strong, gushing waves of Chansik’s sharp scent and Chansik’s fingers dipping under the hem of Junghwan’s slacks and pressing insistently into his hips, of Chansik grinding against him and backing him against the wall, of Chansik’s fingers ghosting over his crotch, then casually pressing in as he undid Junghwan’s belt with shaky fingers, felt almost unreal. Junghwan heard his own high-pitched noises somewhere off in the distance as Chansik’s harsh breath wrapped around his body and flowed down his neck and drew circles that felt like fire against his skin.

Junghwan’s felt his knees growing weak, and he decided to turn it into a perfect opportunity to sink to his knees and deftly undo Chansik’s belt in one motion. “ _Jesus_ , Junghwan,” Chansik breathed, and Junghwan let his instincts take control, because if he listened to any of his rational mind’s pseudo-objections, he’d back out. "Junghwan, y-you don't have to—"

"I want this," Junghwan murmured, mouthing at the front of Chansik's briefs, and Chansik let out a groan and tangled one of his hands in Junghwan's hair. 

Junghwan ghosted his hands under Chansik's underwear and along his hips, and from the choked moan he received in response, he assumed that Chansik liked it. Chansik's hand tightened in Junghwan's hair, and Junghwan whined as he pulled down Chansik's briefs and let the tip of Chansik's dick slip past his lips. 

"Junghwan," Chansik said, and Junghwan wrapped his hand around the base. Chansik's dick was thick and heavy, and the feeling of it against Junghwan's lips made Junghwan shudder with arousal. Junghwan breathed through his nose and concentrated on keeping his lips curled over his teeth. 

As Junghwan leaned back, his head hit the wall, and Chansik thrust forward slowly, tentatively. Junghwan moaned and let out a hesitant nod, urging Chansik on. He tugged on Chansik's cock the way he remembered touching himself when he was in bed at night in university, Chansik out late working on a project. Junghwan remembered murmuring Chansik's name, muffling his voice into the pillows, images of Chansik pinning him against the wall and pressing their lips together roughly. 

Chansik's cock touching the back of Junghwan's throat jolted Junghwan back to reality, and Junghwan huffed out and swallowed, moaning around Chansik's cock and canting his hips forward, desperate for friction. The thought of Chansik fucking his mouth and forcing Junghwan's head gently but firmly forward made Junghwan nearly come in his pants, untouched.

Junghwan's hand slid down Chansik's hip toward his own crotch, but Chansik caught his hand and laced their fingers together gently. Junghwan whined low, and Chansik breathed, "God, I want to fuck you." Chansik's rough voiced compared to the gentleness of his touch went straight to Junghwan's cock. 

Junghwan pulled back and his head tapped the wall again. "Later," he murmured, looking up at Chansik, and his voice came out hoarse. His mouth felt tight and raw, and his lips chapped from the saliva, but Chansik glanced down at him and tightened his grip again, throwing his head back.

"You look good like this," Chansik managed. His hand slid down the side of Junghwan's face, and his thumb softly stroked Junghwan's cheek. Junghwan felt himself flush. His entire body heat seemed to be disperesed between his head and his cock, and Junghwan shivered, subconsciously fluttering his eyes closed.

Months— _years_ of lingering sexual tension culminated in the lewd sounds echoing across the apartment, light from the kitchen filtering into the hallway and casting shadows over Chansik's sharp features. Chansik dipped his head and panted, saying, "Junghwan, if you keep going, I—"

And instead of stopping, Junghwan increased his pace. With a long groan interrupted by harsh rasps of Junghwan's name, Chansik came in Junghwan's mouth, some of it spilling down the sides of Junghwan's chin.

Junghwan was in the middle of undoing his own belt when Chansik took a hold of his chin, breathing harshly. Chansik wiped away some of the come with his thumb and ran the pad of his finger over Junghwan's lips, and Junghwan felt his heart immediately start racing again. His hands froze as he flicked his tongue out experimentally, teasing Chansik's finger, and Chansik grinned down at him and mouthed, "Come for me."

Junghwan released a long whine and a strangled scream from the back of his throat and came, his hands hovering frozen above his crotch and his belt buckle still half-undone.

He panted as he leaned back against the wall, eyes closing. He could hear Chansik kneeling down and holding his face for seconds before kissing him gently on the lips, running his fingers through Junghwan's hair. 

— 

“I think my clothes have been stained permanently gray with flour,” Chansik mused, peaking over Junghwan’s shoulder. 

“Your fault for not wearing an apron,” Junghwan replied, and Chansik traced Junghwan’s apron straps with his finger. Junghwan was trying very hard to concentrate on the recipe and not the telling shiver that was threatening to run down his back.

“It looks better on you,” Chansik said, and Junghwan could feel him smile into the back of his neck.

“Not now,” Junghwan murmured as he absently stirred the batter, hand shaking when Chansik hummed and wrapped his arms around Junghwan’s waist. It was still the honeymoon phase for Junghwan, where every touch made Junghwan’s muscles tense and his toes curl in and his heart pound against his chest. “The party’s in an hour. And the better this cake turns out, the more your parents will like me."

“My mom gave us a queen sized bed as a gift. I think she likes you plenty,” Chansik said. As hard as Junghwan concentrated on the words, the sensation of Chansik’s lips moving on his skin still left him overwhelmed and slightly dazed. Chansik’s grip tightened as Junghwan subconsciously leaned back into him. Chansik talking about the future with utter certainty, as if he’d already lived it and was simply narrating it to Junghwan still left Junghwan’s head spinning two directions at once, and Junghwan didn’t think he’d ever get used to how cold Chansik’s hands were right after he got into bed. But if the only way to move forward with Chansik was to fall head over heels into his arms and let him sweep you off your feet until you were dancing an unfamiliar tango with him but somehow fell into step regardless, Junghwan didn’t think he’d mind it so much. 


End file.
